


falling, falling, falling, falling down

by DefineNormal



Category: Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears (2020), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 900 words, F/M, Writing Exercise, five 150 word mini fics, hell if i know, my two favorite idiots, stuck in phryne's head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefineNormal/pseuds/DefineNormal
Summary: 900 words. Five 150 word mini-fics. Crypt of Tears spoilers all over the place.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 91





	falling, falling, falling, falling down

Jack curls his fingers around the base of her neck, drawing her to him with gentle but insistent force. His lips, warm and soft, part her own. She feels her stomach drop away and her heart is in freefall.

As romantic overtures went, it was not half bad.

Her entire self buzzes when he finally releases her and she feels her whole body quiver, arching towards him. 

The little vulnerable pieces of herself that he has collected are safe in his smile and the sweet promise there. 

She wants to say she will be back. Soon.

She does not want to lie. 

“Come after me, Jack Robinson.” She says instead, half knowing the impossibility but hoping just the same. 

She could have happily lived a thousand lifetimes not knowing what she was missing in Jack.

He has her heart in his safekeeping so instead she runs away.

* * *

She runs away.

The tunnel looms. 

Everything is hot, burning, terrifying.

She thinks of luck, of living and dying, of Shirin. 

She refuses to think of Jack.

Mindless of the overheated metal and with little other choice, she flattens.

The dark is immediate. The sound is immense. The steel is fiery through the satin of her dress.

She presses her face into the sooty roof of the train and holds as still as possible.

In the pitch of the tunnel, ragged rock speeding by, her pulse races unevenly and somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. 

_ Jack, Jack, Jack _ , her traitorous heart pounds.

The sun, when it breaks over her again countless minutes - hours? - later, is dazzling. 

Force and paralyzing fear no longer holding her in place, Phryne feels herself slipping. Blistered fingers scrabble at the metal and her foot loses purchase. It’s as she’s tumbling fast she finally thinks to herself

_ Damn _ .

* * *

She’ll never quite shed the flip-flopping of her heart when she conquers the skies. Freedom, relief and joy coalesce as she lands on the lawn; so much that she’s swirled in indefinable emotion as she lands. 

Strides towards the faces waiting for her.

Aunt P is dramatic. Jonathan is tender. Eleanor and Lofty, Shirin and Sheikh Khalil…

_ Jack _ .

The sensation of the ground disappearing beneath her feet is unwelcome; she knows she must keep her equilibrium.

His face is blank, his jaw clenched. He looks so inescapably Jack.

Words unspoken and promises unmet lay between them and she recognizes the particular look of hurt in his eyes. He’s mourned her twice now, and she well remembers what happened the last time.

_ Retreat _ , her mind whispers.

She steps boldly forward instead. Lighty, airy and untouchable.

She doesn’t have time to digest anything.

Jack. Maharaja. Eulogy.

_ don’t go _

I’m done with you.

* * *

_ I’m done with you _ .

She doesn’t have the time or inclination to unpack her emotions.

She doesn’t have the wherewithal to truly examine the half-life she’s been living. Exotic locations and victims in distress haven’t fully mended the Inspector-shaped hole in the fabric of her life. The tug of a mystery is, perhaps, not as strong as the desire to weave Jack back in.

He is like a stray, feral tomcat...hungry and angry and she has  _ missed him so much _ .

She finds him easily. Their magnetic poles draw them together even while driving them apart. 

When she presses the amulet to his throat she can feel his pulse, hot and speedy and so very  _ alive _ .

When he catches up to her in the rain, she can only stare at his lips, mournful and turned down at the corners, nursing a wound she won’t address.

Oh no. They’re not done.

* * *

His skin is so hot beneath her and she pants, winded not by the brush with death but by the traitorous emotions she cannot control.

His nearness draws a confession from her, one she swore she would not give, because she does not owe it to any man.

Jack Robinson, so respectful, honest and good, is not just any man.

In the course of saving one man’s life, she had resigned herself to losing another. Jack, who always does the right thing.

Jack, who would never take another man’s wife. 

Yet.

She shifts against him and he grunts.

_ Phryne _ , whistles between his clenched teeth and desire flares hotter than the desert sand.

_ Not always _ , he once told her. His eyes, squinted against the sun, are tender and she curls her fingers into his biceps.

The world is ending, Phryne Fisher is married, and Jack Robinson has followed her to hell.

* * *

As summons go, a gunshot is fairly effective.

She does not have to fake the tremble in her limbs as she stands on the bed and waits for him.

It has been decades since she allowed anyone to make decisions for her.

It was time she stopped making them for him, as well.

Her heart, bruised and damaged as it was, had been in his safekeeping for ages. Perhaps longer than even she realized. And his, more precious than an All-Seeing Eye, was hers.

Perhaps that is why she ran. Perhaps that is why she stayed away.

Perhaps that is why she aches.

Perhaps.

He takes her hands and holds her steady. She is both tethered and free, buffeted by adoration and desire.

Love is not a cage. Love is not a problem to be solved. 

They step together until they reach the edge.

And then.

And then they fall.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot find it in myself to be mad at Phryne when she first lands at her own memorial. Not much can put her off her game, but Jack Robinson looking both lost and found, radiating deep pain, would be Just The Thing to mess her right up. I have these thoughts that she had hoped Jack would never find out about the Maharaja because he's willing to look past a lot for her. Becoming a straight-up adulterer? Even if he would, how could she let him? But if you're going to fight tooth and nail against anyone making choices for yourself, you gotta cowgirl up and not make decisions for other people, too. Had the Maharaja not conveniently died, Jack and Phryne may not have ever been able to go back to Melbourne together. It might have cost him his career and what's left of his reputation. But Jack's a big boy and Phryne, try as she might, cannot save everyone. Bless her. So this is my theory: things were going swimmingly via letter, telegram etc until the Maharaja incident. At which point, Phryne just sort of *poof* disappeared. She made the decision to save a man from death, but also may have given up the one good thing she could claim for herself while simultaneously telling herself it was for Jack's own good. Color her unable to deal with her own decisions when she sees him again, tortured by hurting him (double over because she's married AND dead) and unable to resist trying to capture some of what they had, even if she believes they can't go back. Jack is not the kind of dude who is going to accept such a compromise. He lived like that for a while and it's not gonna fly. Good for him! 
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Title from "Nothing But Diamonds" because I'm obsessed with it.


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